Tale: The buckskin pants

Collected by
Mary Celestia Parler;
Transcribed by
Neil Byer
W. T. Dethero
Batesville, Ark.
April 13, 1955
Reel 223, Item 3
The Buckskin Pants (a tale)
Way back yonder in the old times when this country
was thinly settled, people wore buckskin pants. And the
old men knew how to tan them so they looked white and
bleached, just like domestic. And their mothers would
cut them out and use red thread and blue and green to
whip up the seams— all around the pockets and up and
down. A young fellow that owned one of them buckskin
pants, he thought he was settin' pretty. But the only
drawback was that when you got out and got wet, they's
stretch and the legs would get too long. So I'll tell
this on myself:
I had a girl, and she lived about five mile away.
We didn't mind to go walk five miles them days to go
see a girl, and generally always stayed all night. So
I started out one Sunday, just to Sunday School, and
it was about five mile away to Sunday School. She
expected me to go home with her, and I just didn't have
the courage to walk off with her, and I backed down.
But after she went on, I followed along after her. And
she got home before I did, and it come up a shower of
rain and got me wet. Well, I went on and got in and set
by a great big fire, had a big fireplace, and the mother and
the daughter was a-gettin' supper. And I set there a
little while and I seen my pants begin to dry and my
pants legs begin to draw up. They kept a-gettin' shorter
and shorter, and I got awfully embarrassed. And finally
they asked me to supper, and I didn't have no appetite.
And I said, "I guess I don't want any supper." So the
old man and the old lady went off to bed to give us a
chance to talk. But I couldn't think about anything else
but my pants. They just kept a-drawin' up and a-drawin'
up. They got up pert near to my knees. And finally she
said, "If you're going to say anything to me tonight, it's
time to say it." She said, "It's time for me to go to bed."
Reel 223, Item 3, cont.
And I said, "Well, I just ain't got nothing to say."
And there was a little window, just one pane of window,
cut right there in the corner of the house next to the
bed. And the light was broke out. And she told me
I could sleep back there. Well, I went back there, the
the wind and the rain was still a-blowin' in the win­dow,
and I stuck my pants in that window to keep the
rain out. Went off to sleep, and the next morning I
woke up and I missed my pants. And I couldn't imagine
where they was. And finally I heard something a-smack­ing
on the outside. An old sow had reared up and
pulled them down and had them under her feet and was
a-pullin' and a-tuggin' on them to get the grease out
of them. So I was up against it. And they finally
asked me to get out. And I just had to tell them
that my pants was gone. So I didn't weigh but 135
pounds and the old man he weighed about 240. And they
let me have his pants. When I started to go to the
fireplace, the seat almost drug the floor. And I hit
the first seat I could come to, the first chair. Well,
they asked me to breakfast, but I still didn't have
any appetite. I couldn't eat anything. I just set
there, studied about my pants. The old man had stirred
up then, and he went to work. The old lady and the
girl went to the barn to milk. And the old lady
brought in a bucket full of milk, a big two gallon and
a half pail full of milk. And they went back to
separate the calves. And I got hungry about that time,
and I picked up that bucket, and I started to drink.
And the pail fell over my head. And I thought the old
lady was after me with a broomstick, and I just jumped
and bucked around there, and tore the bucket all to
pieces, spilled milk all over the floor, and run off
with the old man's pants on.

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Collected by
Mary Celestia Parler;
Transcribed by
Neil Byer
W. T. Dethero
Batesville, Ark.
April 13, 1955
Reel 223, Item 3
The Buckskin Pants (a tale)
Way back yonder in the old times when this country
was thinly settled, people wore buckskin pants. And the
old men knew how to tan them so they looked white and
bleached, just like domestic. And their mothers would
cut them out and use red thread and blue and green to
whip up the seams— all around the pockets and up and
down. A young fellow that owned one of them buckskin
pants, he thought he was settin' pretty. But the only
drawback was that when you got out and got wet, they's
stretch and the legs would get too long. So I'll tell
this on myself:
I had a girl, and she lived about five mile away.
We didn't mind to go walk five miles them days to go
see a girl, and generally always stayed all night. So
I started out one Sunday, just to Sunday School, and
it was about five mile away to Sunday School. She
expected me to go home with her, and I just didn't have
the courage to walk off with her, and I backed down.
But after she went on, I followed along after her. And
she got home before I did, and it come up a shower of
rain and got me wet. Well, I went on and got in and set
by a great big fire, had a big fireplace, and the mother and
the daughter was a-gettin' supper. And I set there a
little while and I seen my pants begin to dry and my
pants legs begin to draw up. They kept a-gettin' shorter
and shorter, and I got awfully embarrassed. And finally
they asked me to supper, and I didn't have no appetite.
And I said, "I guess I don't want any supper." So the
old man and the old lady went off to bed to give us a
chance to talk. But I couldn't think about anything else
but my pants. They just kept a-drawin' up and a-drawin'
up. They got up pert near to my knees. And finally she
said, "If you're going to say anything to me tonight, it's
time to say it." She said, "It's time for me to go to bed."
Reel 223, Item 3, cont.
And I said, "Well, I just ain't got nothing to say."
And there was a little window, just one pane of window,
cut right there in the corner of the house next to the
bed. And the light was broke out. And she told me
I could sleep back there. Well, I went back there, the
the wind and the rain was still a-blowin' in the win­dow,
and I stuck my pants in that window to keep the
rain out. Went off to sleep, and the next morning I
woke up and I missed my pants. And I couldn't imagine
where they was. And finally I heard something a-smack­ing
on the outside. An old sow had reared up and
pulled them down and had them under her feet and was
a-pullin' and a-tuggin' on them to get the grease out
of them. So I was up against it. And they finally
asked me to get out. And I just had to tell them
that my pants was gone. So I didn't weigh but 135
pounds and the old man he weighed about 240. And they
let me have his pants. When I started to go to the
fireplace, the seat almost drug the floor. And I hit
the first seat I could come to, the first chair. Well,
they asked me to breakfast, but I still didn't have
any appetite. I couldn't eat anything. I just set
there, studied about my pants. The old man had stirred
up then, and he went to work. The old lady and the
girl went to the barn to milk. And the old lady
brought in a bucket full of milk, a big two gallon and
a half pail full of milk. And they went back to
separate the calves. And I got hungry about that time,
and I picked up that bucket, and I started to drink.
And the pail fell over my head. And I thought the old
lady was after me with a broomstick, and I just jumped
and bucked around there, and tore the bucket all to
pieces, spilled milk all over the floor, and run off
with the old man's pants on.